The Unwanted Son
by purplepuppy7
Summary: The Dursley's are the only family Harry has ever known. What happens when he learns that it has all been a lie? Taught to be the family slave, Harry must face new challenges, all the while hiding the truth about his home life. Warning - mild abuse in first few chapters (physical and verbal only).
1. It's Just a Normal Day

**Hello! This is my first story, and currently unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

 **If I owned Harry Potter, I would have a British accent and be named Joanne. Sadly, I don't. Everything you recognize is the work of the master, I own nothing.**

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Rubbing my head, sore from where Mother smacked it with the ladle this morning, I blearily blink away the remenants of sleep from my weary eyes. I only have a few minutes left to finish up the pancakes and set the table before Mother wakes up Dudley for breakfast so that he isn't late for school. I do hope he gets up right away today, because the longer it takes to wake him up, the more frustrated Mother will get, and that means I won't get to eat breakfast. Again. Luckily, Father is out on a business trip and won't be back for a week.

"BOY!" Oh no, it's Mother! Hurriedly, I flip the last of the pancakes onto a plate and rush to grab the forks and knives. She comes in just as I am placing the plates onto the table.

"Where is the juice?" Asks Mother, in an unsettlingly dangerous tone, ripe with disapproval.

"Sorry Mother." I reply. "But Dudley finished the rest of the juice yesterday with dinner.

"Boy. We clothe you, we feed you, and we ask only that you help around the house every now and then. I think I need to teach you this lesson again."

My knees begin to quiver and my mouth feels dry. "L-lesson?" I ask tentatively before she grabs my wrist in a bruisingly tight grasp and drags me to the downstairs bedroom and picks up a bar of soap. I know what will come next, and I dutifully open my mouth, bracing myself for the sickening and foul taste that will follow as she runs the soap under the tap for a few seconds and lathers it up. Then, Mother shoves the soap into my mouth, scraping it against my teeth and pushing it in until I gag and my eyes water. I know better than to make a sound, but as the soap hits the back of my throat and I resist the urge to vomit, I let out a small whimper.

"What was that Boy!" She bellows. "Was that a WHIMPER! You ungrateful, nasty little brat! We treat you with the utmost care yet you refuse to act properly, you little FREAK!" With that, she pulls an old, broken comb out of the cabinet under the sink and lights the candle that we keep in the bathroom. I freeze as I watch her hold the comb in the flames until it begins to droop, dripping melted plastic on the sink countertop. Grabbing my hand, she slowly trickles the molten plastic on my hand. It burns my skin, stinging more than when Ripper, Aunty Marge's dog, bit me last summer. I blink away tears as she releases my hand and shoves me to the ground. "Time for school Boy, no breakfast for you today! If you come home quickly enough after school, and manage to get your useless self to the store to buy juice, maybe you will get dinner."

With that, I scramble to my dusty cupboard under the stairs, grabbing the frayed straps of my bag and flinging on a tie before running out of the door.

School, as usual, is a nightmare. Because of Mother's insistence that I complete my outdoor chores at night, when no neighbors can see, I am exhausted in all of my classes. To add to this, I went over my lunch account lunch charges, so I wasn't available to get any food. As soon as classes let out, I scurried out of the classroom, intending to rush home before Mother got too mad. No such luck, because Dudley grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against the side of the school as soon as I got out of the building. I winched as the harsh movement aggravated my bruises and scraped my sluggishly bleeding lacerations, still tender from Father's last punishment. By the time I reach home, Mother is furious.

"Boy! You think you can loiter in the streets and skive off your chores by being late! No dinner tonight!" Mother thrusts a list of chores in my hand and slaps me across the face before storming off to watch television.

It is an hour later when Dudley returns home. Mother rushes to fix him a snack before immediately handing him the television remote. It sickens me sometimes, how much Mother loves Dudley but hates me. Why doesn't she love me? Am I really that much of a bad boy?

At the end of the day, I return to my sanctuary, my prison, my cupboard. Under the stairs, I can be safe in my little cage of a room. The spiders and I are excellent friends by this point, and although the small cot is much too uncomfortable to properly sleep on, it is the one place in the house that is mine. I know, however, that this safety will not last. Tomorrow is Saturday. Tomorrow I will spend all day toiling under the watchful eye of Mother, and I know that one slip and I will be gravely punished, because Father will be returning on Sunday, and Father will put me back in my place. Father will give me what I deserve for being such an ungrateful whelp. I hope I will not anger Mother too much tomorrow, because Monday school is off for holiday, so I can be punished however much she wishes. These are my last thoughts as I drift off to sleep, finally succumbing to the mind numbing exhaustion that haunts my very being every day.


	2. I Promise, I'll Be Good

**Congratulations if you actually managed to make it to the second chapter of this story without falling asleep :)**

 **Cookies for everyone :D :D (::)**

 **On another note, I still don't own Harry Potter (sadly). It seems that J.K. Rowling has not had time to reply to my letter about whether I can buy the rights off of her for the excellent price of two packs of skittles and an old soccer trophy. Anyway, everything that you recognize isn't mine. Enjoy!**

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Mother wakes me at 4:00 in the morning. I rub the remenants of sleep from my eyes as she drags me from my cupboard and pushes me into the kitchen. I am to pick up Dudley's toys, clean the kitchen, and do the laundry so that I can start making breakfast by 9:00 to have it ready for when Dudley wakes up.

By 9:00 I still have not finished folding Mother's laundry or scrubbing the kitchen floors because Dudley left such a large mess in the living room that it took me much too long to get it all in order again, and Mother is furious.

"How DARE you not finish your chores! I do everything in this house, and I expect you to be able to earn your keep!"

"But Mother!" I start. "Why can't Dudley even clean his own room?" The words slip out before I am even aware of what I am saying.

"Are you talking back to me!" Mother screams, spraying spit on my face as she bellows. "That is it! I am sick and tired of you, boy! Go! Stand in the corner of the room!"

Dutifully, I slink away to the corner. Placing my hands on the wall, I stand, with my feet together, perfectly silent as she expects of me.

An hour passes as I stand in the corner. My hands are tied uncomfortably tight by a course rope, and every time I shift I can feel the rough fibers as they dig into my wrists. My eyes swim with tiredness, and my legs quiver from the work. To make matters worse, Mother has not allowed me a single break since when she woke me this morning , and I am aware of my pressing need to use the toilet. I glance at the clock on the wall. It is now 10:30.

"M-mother? Mother, may I please be e-excused?" My voice quavers as I ask, turning around to face her.

"No." Her response is decisive and cold.

'But-"

"I SAID NO!" She lashes out and strikes my knee with the broom. I crumple to the floor for a brief instant before immediately straightening, wincing at both the pain and my inability to mask it and fearing what retribution my weakness will bring. Luckily, Mother simply smooths down her skirt and leaves the room. Another hour passes as I cross my legs and pray that she will let me soon use the toilet. I bite my lip as I grip myself hard, willing myself to hold until Mother gives me a break. Finally, at ten minutes to 12:00 she returns to the room and tells me I may go use the lavatory. I begin to shuffle to the downstairs loo, trying not to move to quickly for fear that I will lose it. Suddenly, Dudley pushes past me and I fall to the floor, losing control of my bladder. Mother just stares at my rapidly darkening pants as her face turns an unsightly shade of red. I am shoved into my cupboard and the door is slammed shut and locked behind me. My head slams painfully against the frame of my cot as I stumble before falling to the dusty floor. I reach my hand up to my forehead and feel sticky, warm blood. I have no fresh clothes with me, and I shiver as my wet clothes cool on my body. It is pitch black, Father removed the light last year so that I would waste less "precious electricity". Tears trickling down my face, I drift off to sleep, knowing it will be the last decent rest I will get in a long time.

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 **Hello! Thank you for reading this far into my first story! Since this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, I am not entirely sure of what I am doing. Please review to let me know if this is worth continuing or not. Constructive criticism, praise, and flames are all greatly welcomed :)**


	3. The Love of a Father?

**Helloooooooo readers! Welcome to chapter three of The Unwanted Son! Please let me know of any errors or inconsistencies I make, all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Thank you for reading this far!**

 **A special thanks to J.E. Foxina for being my first reviewer on my first story! Thank you very much for your feedback! It is nice to know that the story is off to a good start!**

 **Last time I checked, I never wrote down a chapter of a story on a napkin while riding a train. Yup, I'm still not J.K. Rowling, and do not own Harry Potter.**

 **And without further ado... CHAPTER THREE: The Love of Father! ENJOY!**

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"FREAAKKKKKK!" A loud clattering sound jolts me awake as Father bellows and spews profanities. I sit up suddenly, wincing as the movement jostles my injuries and causes my head to spin. Father throws open my cupboard door as I stand, arms behind my back and eyes averted.

"G-good morning father. How was your trip?"

"YOU WRETCHED, STUPID, RETARDED BRAT! PETUNIA SAYS YOU HAVE BEEN BAD!"

I know what he expects of me. Father likes it when I tell him of my misdeeds myself, so he can be sure that I know how much punishment I deserve. I know better than to lie, because Mother will have already told him about everything I did. I must be careful; if I tell him too little and miss something, I will be in severe trouble. On the other hand, if I elaborate too much or mention something that Mother did not notice, it could makes my punishment worse. Swallowing hard, I begin.

"Father, I was a terrible, good-for-nothing freak. I neglected to provide proper breakfast for Mother and Dudley. I resisted punishment from Mother. I returned home late after school. I did not complete my chores. I apologize."

"Anything else?" Father sneers at me.

"I-I defiled your floor, Father."

"Defiled? How?" I can tell Father knows exactly what I did. I know what he is doing. I am to tell him exactly what happened myself, for further humiliation.

"F-father, I urinated on your floor while standing in the corner as punishment". Father's smile widens.

"Boy, you are such a pathetic waste of life, you can not even properly obey instructions. When we tell you to stand in to corner because you refuse to listen, you are not able to even do that. Instead, you wet your pants like a baby. You have the gall to then not even clean up after yourself, instead lazing about in your cupboard until I return home. I think you know what you need to do."

Yes. I do know what comes next. I slowly walk to my cupboard and retrieve one of my few possessions, a thick leather belt with a shiny silver buckle. I use my thumb to scratch off a little patch of blood - Father likes the belt to be clean. I walk over and hand him the belt, turning around, pulling off my baggy and torn shirt, and placing my hands on the wall.

I take a deep breath and have just begun to let it out when- "CRACK!" The belt lashes against my back. I feel as though Father has painted a stripe of fire across my back. Mercilessly, Father builds up a rhythm, giving me enough time to feel the acute pain of each stroke, but not enough to feel any relief before the belt strikes me again. After about eight strokes, a hiss of pain escapes through my gritted teeth. My legs quiver, and I collapse to my knees, crying out in pain.

"BOY! STAY IN POSITION YOU WORTHLESS FREAK!" Father turns the belt around and whips me again, the buckle wrapping around my thin frame and lashing me in the stomach, leaving bleeding scratches and a raised welt. He then grabs my upper arm in a bruisingly tight grip and drags me to the shed, shoving me inside. I whimper as I fall and twist my ankle. "You better mow the lawn and weed the garden NOW! No slacking off! And NO DINNER!"

As Father stalks back inside the house, I limp over to the lawnmover. As the hot sun beats down on me, I trudge back and forth across the line, fighting to remain standing. My stomach feels hollow with hunger, and I press my arm against my abdomen to quell the stabbing pangs of starvation. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. My face is pale and gaunt, and my oversized rags hand off of my painfully thin body. My arms shake as I push through the pain, and my back burns with pain with every step I take. I can feel trickles of blood leaking out of some deeper lashes, running down my back. Finally, I have finished all of the gardening as the sun begins to set.

"M-mother? May I please have some food? Please?" I beseech Mother, knowing that I need to eat food soon. I will not survive much longer in this house without food.

"Food? FOOD? You heard your father, you disobedient brat! No food today!"

"Please, Mother, please? I need food!" I can feel blood trickling out of my parched, cracked lips as I beg Mother. She throws half a bottle of tepid water at my head. My arm streaks up and catches it before it makes contact with my face. I whisper a quick "thank you, Mother" before slinking back to my cupboard. I mean to save some of the water, but as soon as I take a sip, my thirst intensifies, and the rest of the bottle dissapears in a few quick sips. I then lay back in my small cot, trying to find a position that does not pull or press on too many of my injuries, before I drift off to a restless and uneasy slumber.

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 **Thank you very much for reading! As always, please review and let me know what you liked, what you hated, and what I can do better! Cookies for everyone :)**


	4. Chapter 4 Preview and Adoption Notice

**Hello everyone! I am SO SORRY for doing this, when I hate it when I'm reading a story that just fades out. Unfortunately, I started writing this story at a different patch in my life, and now I've changed, and so have my stories. I may come back to this, but for now I just can't, and I am really sorry about that. Here is what I had for the beginning of chapter 4, and if you want to take over the story go ahead, you can use what I have so far and continue it or you can change it, but please give me some credit for the first couple of chapters if you do.**

 **Thank you J.E. Foxina for your encouraging review in the previous chapter, I'm sorry for abandoning this fic.**

 **Disclaimer: I know I've said it before but I have to say it again, even if this isn't much of a chapter: I own nothing!**

 **And now, here is the chapter 4 preview... again, you can adopt this story if you want, I may come back to it someday but it just wasn't worth it, the story was going nowhere and I had almost no reviews telling me if I should continue or not.**

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I groan as I trim the hedges with the hot sun beating down on me, burning my skin and causing dizzying episodes every time I move too quickly. My arms ache with the weight of the heavy hedge clippers, and I stumble repeatedly as my bare feet are cut and bruised by stones and twigs. Father has commanded me to trim the hedges today. I was kept home from school all day to scrub the floors and vacuum the carpets, and the fresh welts from yesterday's punishment burned every time I moved. I am so numb from exhaustion I hardly even feel the pain: I suppose that is somewhat of a blessing, perhaps? Finally, I finish with the hedges and stow away all the gardening equipment in the shed before hosing off the dirt and blood from my wearied feet. I slip inside and fetch the mail, immediately handing it to Father at the table.

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 **Well, there it is... the chapter 4 preview. Thank you everyone who has read this far :)**


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